Broken
by Roland Farqueson
Summary: A psychopath saves a young girl from the infected. Now that his urge to kill is easily sated with the infected what does he do with his unwilling partner? Rated M for violence and sexual content. Feel free to review.
1. Chapter 1: Red Sea

**Broken**

**Chapter 1: Red Sea**

**30 days after the initial infection**

_Red, a sea of red, a primal searing sea. Somewhere in the distance a light shone through like a beacon. Leading onwards, up and up until a there above the water line, above the crashing waves of red, it sat in all its glory._

_A howling wind pierced consciousness like a trepanning drill, keeping any mind from focusing. It screamed like the damned would claw for release. The agony of the screams was endless, like the purity of the sea, it was limitless._

_There where the light shone, a young woman, floating above the crashing red waves. Her eyes were closed and head down as though she were ashamed of her nakedness. Her black hair rolled down the back of her neck and spilled onto her shoulders, her skin was naked, supple and begging. The arches of her body were inviting and eager. The smell was intoxicating of young warm skin a comfort in the swelling tormented sea._

_Her arms raised, and her head lifted up and her lips curled into a smile. Thin red lines began to appear over her body as though thousands of invisible knives danced through the air cutting her exposed flesh. Her faced convulsed and writhed in exquisite agony as the cuts began widening and seeping forth the blood. Blood trickled down her body following the curves of her body trickling off the ends of her extended arms and feet. She moaned in pleasure and her body yearned for the pleasure to be sated._

_The volume of the moans increased until her cries of pleasure matched the pitch of the crying winds. Louder and louder it became with the cacophony of pleasure and pain around it. Then she opened her eyes, red._

James awoke with a start, sitting up in bed. His chest working to draw more air into his lungs. His heart thumping in his chest just waiting to explode like a ticking bomb. He lay back slowly onto the bed sheets his body gleamed with sweat and the sheets stuck to his naked body like honey.

His head hit the damp pillow and he stared up at the ceiling a strip of sunlight sat there announcing to the room that it was morning. Outside London sat empty and still of any morning commotion. The sunlight crept in through the small slit of the window to the bed's right.

The window was covered with planks of wood delicately placed and screwed securely into the wall. Between the glass of the window and the wood was some old yellow loft insulation, around the small slit in the wood evidence of this yellow insulation could be seen as it crept around the edges of the wood trying to sneak out. The slit was used simply to look down onto the street and keep the occupier safe, but the insulation could be moved to keep light from getting in and out. James often left it open to see out at all times, but made sure no light was on in the bedroom.

The bedroom was sparsely decorated, the wall were painted white and painting hung over the bed, a print of a Van Gogh. Next to the bed on the left hand side sat a small table. A digital clock sat there along with an now unused mobile phone, a wallet and a set of keys. The room was carpeted with a think cream carpet well kept and very clean.

James lay still for the next coming minute as his breath regulated itself. He looked down at his naked form and saw his crotch was a mess, he'd ejaculated all over himself in his dream. His crotch glowed with a warmth one can only achieve through sexual gratification. He drew a sharp breath and exhaled deeply. Raising his hand he wiped his own brow clean of the sweat.

He sat up trying to keep his legs apart. He got out of bed and walked to the bedroom door slowly. Opening the door he revealed the clean landing with it's natural oak flooring. He paced into the bathroom and leaned into the very modern shower and hit the water. His body was drenched instantly in cool water. It trickled down his muscular body and drenched the sweat away that clung to his body. He began scrub himself making sure his body was cleaned of last night impurities.

James was a doctor, he used to work as private doctor. That was before the outbreak, working for wealthy patients was how he kept his nice house in Chiswick. He lived alone and always had since he left for university. He didn't care for the company of others for any extend period of time, but had always remained very charming and was very good and faking the dislike he had of others. Soon after he'd realized what was happening James had boarded up his nice house. Trying to hide himself from the world, from the infected. He'd set up a generator in his basement which he'd had noise insulated not long after he bought the house originally. It wasn't hard to keep it stocked with petrol now that no one else could bother him. Thankfully the water still worked in his house, so he was never thirsty.

James had everything going for him before the outbreak, he was good looking, kept himself fit and was incredibly intelligent. There wasn't much he didn't know about anything. However since the outbreak he'd never been happier. For now he could hunt in peace.

James was a psychopath


	2. Chapter 2: Cuts

**Chapter 2: Cuts**

James had just finished toweling himself off and cleaning up after last nights exploits. It was a very familiar dream, he'd had it every night for the past week. He was sure he knew the woman from his dreams but he couldn't pin exactly where. Which was strange as he always prided himself on his impeccable memory. He certainly hadn't met her directly otherwise he'd remember her name.

He walked over to the wash basket and dumped his towel in there. Naked he walked back into his bedroom and slipped on a pair of stonewashed jeans and some work boots. After he'd tied up his boots he walked over to the window and let his bare chest feel the warmth of the sunlight that spilled through the purposefully made crack. He chest was almost carved out of marble would have been well suited in the British Museum between Ares and Apollo.

He leaned forward to the crack and peered through. Out onto his nice green front garden, near the garden gate several sun flowers bloomed and were facing the sun with their petals tree in his front garden blocked some of his view. However it only block the dead-end. He lived in a cul-de-sac a once very nice street, everyone who had lived here were professionals who worked in the city. Three of them numbered in his patient list.

There in the middle of the road, lying on his back though he were drunk, was Mr. Kent. He was in his usual suit. A navy blue suit with a matching waist coat, the waist coat barely managed to contain his large belly underneath. James would usually catch Mr. Kent trying to heave his large frame into his jaguar each morning. A lot of the time James could use Mr. & Mrs. Kent's arguments as an alarm clock in the morning. They may have lived in detached houses but when Mr. Kent got angry most of the street must have heard his shouts and accusations. Mrs. Kent was a slight creature and James barely saw her.

Mr. Kent would have to be dealt with. Leaning back James walked over to his bedside table and picked up the hand mirror there. He slicked his hair back how he liked it, then opening on of the drawers he removed some hair clay and ran it through his hair so it would retain it's shape. Then afterwards he pulled a white t-shirt from his cupboard and then left and headed downstairs.

The downstairs area was still neat as it was before. The kitchen was a cavalcade of technology. The latest cooker, fridge and microwave. The marble surfaces were kept immaculate at all times. The fridge was stocked well with food, as was the freezer. He went into the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice and drank directly from it.

The living room was much the same, a large HD television was bracketed to the wall and was unused a lot of the time even before the outbreak. The sofa was clean and sat well on top of the natural oak floor.

Replacing his orange juice he turned with a smile he headed to the latch door in the corner of the kitchen. He opened it up and there were the stairs leading down to the basement. He flicked on the light switch and trotted down the stairs humming to himself. He ran his hand through his hair making sure it was neat and staying in place. He reached the bottom of the stairs and then opened the door tentatively to reveal another door, he then entered that one. It was like entering an airlock to his lair. Then as soon as he opened the door he was hit by the grinding of the generator. It whirred away keeping his house alive like a heat forever beating. He'd managed to stockpile a good amount of petrol and he wouldn't need to go looking for more for at least another month.

Apart from the door he'd entered through there was another on the opposite side, leading to a room which was situated under his back garden. This room was also sound proofed as well so he at least wasn't disturbed by the sound of the generator while he needed alone time.

In the room there was a work bench on one side. With all manner of tools ranging from a surgeons precise scalpel to a builders jigsaw. Next to the bench sat the generator giving out it's low purring. Opposite the workbench was a bathtub. It wasn't connected to the water but merely had one pipe leading out into the sewers. There was a weird reddish mixture contained in the tub currently and next to it were caskets of very strong hydrochloric acid.

There was also a small shower on the same wall as the bath but a good distance away. There was also a coat rack and self next to the door into the next room. Where white coats, surgical gloves and various coverings were stored to protect him from getting infected.

He moved over to the bath tube and pulled out the plug with the plunger button on the side. It meant he could operate the plug without sticking his hand in the bath. Then with a smile he walked over to the other door and walked into the next room.

The room was covered in blood it had splashed up over all the surfaces. James smiled admiring he's own handy work. The room had no furniture save one operating table in the centre. A young woman was strapped to it naked. James had had some fun with her last night. She was odd for a rage infected woman, she had just seemed to accept what was happening after a while. Docile but still conscious as James liked them.

The woman on the table had once been quite pretty he hair was blonde and James presumed her eyes were blue once. He could no longer tell. Over her body were lots of cuts ranging from paper cuts to full on gashes. He had applied all of them with such delicacy and reveling in every cut. He moved forward and inspected her body closer. He'd slashed open her mouth with a razor blade giving her a perfect Glasgow smile. That had been good. He scanned his eyes down and saw the massive gash he'd given her with a stanley knife from her groin all the way down to her knee. That had been his ecstasy that had finished him and he'd had to go next door and clean off.

He smiled turned and went back to the other room. He put on his protective gear and set to disposing of the body in the bathtub. When he was finished he stripped off and washed himself with disinfected in the shower. Once done he sorted out his hair to look the same again and got into his clean clothes again. They'd be fine he'd made sure they were well covered.

Time deal with Mister Kent!


	3. Chapter 3: Mr & MrsKent

**Chapter 3: Mr & Mrs Kent**

After getting himself sorted and grabbing something to eat. A simple meal of of tinned chopped tomatoes and some pasta. He headed back downstairs, making sure he washed his plate throughly and replaced back into it's correct cupboard. The body in the bath tub was dissolving nicely and he went over to his little work bench.

On the working part sat a small submachine gun, he'd found on a body of a young police woman, along with a handgun. He had little experience with firearms and because of this next to this guns sat a book he'd found about caring for the guns. It contained all he need to keep them working.

He'd only read up to about how most handguns worked and was only confident in using that one. He only had one clip of ammo for both guns so knew he must use them sparingly. He also guessed ,and would lay down money, that firing one would attract the infected to him in droves, so he'd only use them if he had to.

He pulled out the handgun, checked there wasn't a round chamber and then slipped it into the back of his jeans. He then looked up at his array of toys. He then seemed to come of a stop like a child in a sweet shop not knowing what to have first. However Mr. Kent was disgusting and he'd no desire to take his time with the fat man. He smiled wishing it were someone else lying in front of his house. Then it suddenly came to him Mrs. Kent might still be around.

Smiling and letting out a small whimper of joy he bent down and opened the door of the work bench. Inside was small fridge where drugs were kept a low temperature and sterile. Flinging the door open so fast the hinges groaned. He quickly grabbed his syringe pouch that was next to the fridge.

It was small leather pouch and could be attached to his belt and was closer to a holster that it was a pouch. He took out a small bottle of flunitrazepam, which was a strong sedative, and pierced the lid with the syringe and then sucked some of the drug into it. Enough to knock someone out quickly but not kill them. Then grinning like a fool he placed the syringe in it's pouch and then attached to his belt. He closed up the fridge and work bench and then pulled a claw hammer of the tool rack. He span and bounded up the stairs taking them two at a time back to the kitchen. He strolled to his hallway and picked up the pair of skiing googles he had and a mouth mask he'd taken from the hospital when the quarantine was broken.

He put them on and then opened the front door. Sliding the dead bolt across the door, securing the ground floor had been his first priority during the initial days of the virus.

James strolled out into the warm sun and his beautifully cared for front garden. He walked to the end and opened the front gate. Mr. Kent stayed where he was unmoving.

He looked down the street to make sure there weren't any infected around although they probably wouldn't be out during the day. Nothing stirred apart from the plants moving the pleasant breeze. He span the hammer in his hand so the claw would be at the impact of his swing. Then cooly and casually he marched over to the fat man lying in the road.

Mr. Kent's belly was hanging out of his shirt which was ripped and his mouth was covered in gore presumably from where he'd been vomiting. He seemed to hear James approaching and with a snarl began to get up.

This made it easier for James he didn't need to bend down now. He raised the hammer and brought it down onto the big bald spot in Mr. Kent's head. Now jammed in his head Mr. Kent was still alive but had clearly lost control and merely twitched. James laughed and then putting his shoulders into the action he levered the hammer out. It was accompanied by a sicking crack as the top of Mr. Kent's head shattered and splintered blood and brain matter scatted out from his skull as he slumped backwards.

Instead of feeling the itch in his loins which normally accompanied such violent outburst he just felt disgusted. Not at himself but of the fat man in the middle road that he would now have to deal with. There was more chance of hell freezing over than James dragging the fat slob of a man through his house to the acid tub.

He grabbed the fat man by the wrist and began dragging him towards the end of the street. When he was a suitable length away he dumped the body. He would come back later and burn it. Once he'd got a new play thing and he didn't need to be out.

He made sure there was no blood on him and then lowered the skiing goggles and his face mask to his neck, and then with a smile and a bounce in his walk he headed for the Kent's house.

He looked at the front door then tried it finding that it was still locked. He crouched down and looked through the letter box. The house looked undisturbed and still clean he looked around the street once again and considered smashing a window but God knew if there infected around but they would hear the glass smashing. He opted for checking the backdoor. He went round the back of the house and climbed the fence leading to the back and he landed without a sound onto the Kent's perfectly cut grass.

He paused for a moment looking around like a lion would watch the savanna. Then satisfied that his climb had attracted no attention he went to the backdoor. He tried the handle and the door opened straight away.

He was met by the clean kitchen. Mrs Kent had always kept it clean and he'd seen it a few times when the fat man insisted that he come round and sample some of his wife's vile cooking. He did always stock good spirits though. With that though James headed light footed to the living room.

The living room was clean and cream the pillows on the couch were perfectly placed and the brown sofas looked soft and inviting. No sign of the widow Kent yet.

There was a large TV mounted on the wall and a drinks cabinet in the corner. He opened it up and found several tasteful bottles of whiskey and some gin. After inspecting each of the bottles individually he decided he would come back for them at some point.

The was a thump, like a something hard falling off of a bed from upstairs. James didn't jump but turned and looked at the door which led to the hall. He threw the hammer quietly onto a couch and slipped the syringe on his hip out of it's pouch. He squeezed the air out so some of the liquid trickled out the syringe.

There was a second thump it sounded like a pair of shoes being kicked off someone's feet. James looked down at his own feet and then decided to take off his shoes. He slipped them off knowing his movements would be more quiet now.

He headed for the stairs lightly testing each step encase they creaked and he succeeded in getting to the top without making a sound. He could tell by the smell of bleach the door right in front of him was the bathroom. So he decided to work from there. He pushed one door open and revealed a awfully decorated spare room. Still tidy, like the outside world was still functioning.

He approached the next door his syringe raised ready for the infected . He pushed the door open with his foot. His left hand ready to grab her by the throat. Then he was shocked to find laying on the bed a bottle of wine in he hand. She'd clearly just kicked off her shoes. She was wearing a nice dress, black and outlining her body well. Even in her late forties she was still attractive. Her face was pointed in a ferret like way and her hair blonde at shoulder length was well looked after. He looked at her legs and scanned up looking at her white lacy underwear. Some pubic hair was visible and James felt his penis harden. She was very much alive and uninfected. He quickly put away the syringe and walked over to the bed and sat down next to her.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her. She moaned briefly and then her eyes flickered opened. She looked directly into James' eyes and the was a moment of horror and then realizing he was not infected she relaxed.

"Mr. Rex, you're still alive." She smiled and her eyes rolled upwards. She was still drunk.

"Mrs. Kent," he paused for ages not knowing what to say. "Are you okay?"

She sat herself up on an elbow and looked at him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked yawning

"I was looking for supplies in the neighborhood." He replied, he was very good a lying.

"Oh, I'm guessing you've come across my husband?" she said with a hint of resentment in her voice.

"Yes, I'm afraid he's...infected...Ma'am" he said not sure how to address her.

"I know I saw his fat arse down in the road this morning. I thought I would celebrate the fact I wouldn't have to deal with his sweaty rutting anymore." she took a swig from the bottle.

"He tried to get into the house last night but I hide." She seemed amused by it.

"Well your house isn't very safe he could've got in." James thought he'd leave out the fact he'd just caved in her infected husband's head in.

"It's safe enough...and quiet now as well." She smiled and put a hand to his cheek.

He flinched away but trying not to offend her. His erection was fully hard now. He couldn't believe his luck she was completely alive. Should he just have his fun now? Or take his time?

He decided to wait and savor the moment.

"Would you like to come to mine until help comes? I've made it safe and I have a generator. I'll cook us a meal." He smiled, knowing his smile and his perfect teeth were almost irresistible.

He would take this woman home he would fuck her and then he would kill her.


End file.
